


He's Got Horns

by PlumpPeachPrincess



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Exhibitionism, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oc wants it so?, Public Blow Jobs, dubcon kinda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumpPeachPrincess/pseuds/PlumpPeachPrincess
Summary: Someone asked for Michael absolutely fucking up their oc. Ft Alex who got fucked up by The Trapper in a previous story of mine. OC does not belong to me!





	He's Got Horns

It came down to the point that Alex became walking trouble. Whatever that meant for him, as far as either bringing the trouble, or craving it, was the difference in the question. It’s not like it was a mystery of his mouth, he didn’t know when to shut that pretty little mouth. Gnashing of teeth, a well timed bark of laughter, a roll of his eyes, all these things tended to set off people he shouldn’t have. His fault, really, should have seen all this coming from a mile away. 

The setting they’re in is a familiar one, smaller in space but full of hiding spots. Haddonfield was a notorious playground for one specific masked hunter. The generators in close proximity of each other made it harder for them all to work on, not to mention the ones in the houses where you couldn’t see anything but a doorway as your heart thrummed hard enough to make your ears hurt. Alex was confident in his team’s abilities, he always was. 

Claudette, Dwight, and David were all somewhere different than himself. Claudette he had full faith she’d get through this alright, clever girl she was even if her fingers were a bit shaky twisting wires. Dwight was, well, a coward, but not a bad man. Knew to play his cards right, perhaps cowardice is what’s gotten him so far. And David. Now, that man was all bulk no brain. Was always seeking out a fight, Alex could appreciate that. If it weren’t for that man’s wolfish smile, inflated ego, and having too much blood flowing southward, Alex may have called him impressive. 

Alex knows his role in this. To distract. He cracks his neck and gets to work, stalking the stalker. The heartbeat is their only warning in this twisted game, one he never hears with this specific killer. His dark eyes watch, alert and perked like a cat’s. Alex hears him before he can actually see him, heavy boots stomping up the road. Calculated and watchful. 

Always a challenge was Michael. Alex had been thrown in games with him before, he near grinned at the memories. Michael was easy to rile up, easy to tick off. He’d never been one to not catch his prey before, that much Alex could tell. There was some beef between him and Laurie for sure, because when Alex and Laurie both high tailed it out one match, Alex could see the glint of anger behind that mask’s eyes. 

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the slight tilt to Michael’s head. It’s so subtle you’d think nothing of it, maybe watching off to the side or listening for footsteps. But, oh, when his head whips Alex’s direction and he starts his quickened pace, faster than his normal, precise walk. Oh, does Alex book it. 

“Shit!” He shouts, scrambling from his crouched position and is nearly a second too late when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck sit up from a ghost’s touch. His strong legs carry him far, he doesn’t dare look over his shoulder until a good minute into the chase. Vaulting over a window, tucking behind a bush and steadying his breath. He dares a chance around his haven of a shrub, watching the white masked man huff out breath after breath. Eyes frantically searching, Michael is no longer a patient, calculated man. 

He’s a hunter on a mission. 

And Alex, his prey. 

Eyes snap to Alex’s and his heart jumps in his chest. “What’s the matter? Too fast for you, again?” His mouth works faster than his brain, flashing a pearly toothed grin and seeing Michael’s hand twist around his blade before stomping his direction. 

Alex books it yet again, steadying his breathing as his legs work to carry him far. Two generators ping off at the same time and he can see Michael pause, turning his head one of their ways and his heart sinks. “Hey, asshole, what’s more important? Appeasing the spider-bitch, or your ego?” He shouts across the street, high and mighty, beaming with pride at his new quips. Cheeks flushed red from exertion, legs screaming for him to stop. 

Michael takes the bait, head snapping his way and powerful body marching to his own beat towards Alex. Who allows him just a second head start before he’s carried away yet again by his body’s own instincts of fight or flight. Fear should choke him up to his throat, but his thoughts start twisting and curiously coiling. 

After the...incident with the Trapper, Alex has always wondered who else wasn’t consumed with thoughts of killing. Who craved touch, or to take apart their prey in a new light. Michael was quite the man, wasn’t he? Or, rather, a beast. Large, taking until he had his fill, bloodlust written all over his features hidden by a well worn mask. How his knuckles were scarred up and dried up from blood, the way he grips his knife preciously like an old friend, his accomplice in all of this madness. 

A mistake, on Alex’s part, is not paying attention to how close Michael was. Or how far that window was. His fingers brush the windowsill, he starts to haul himself over and it all happens too quickly for him to calculate that his body is too far to hoist itself over the edge. He gets close enough, only for his ankle to get snatched and his face to go smashing into the edge. His nose and mouth get busted up as he yelps from pain and fear. 

He’s dragged back, dragging on his belly as his nose drips blood and he’s nursing a wound in his mouth with his tongue. Alex tries to wind around, kicking at the hand that holds him, earning a growl from the man above him as he scurries back on his hands. Pressed against a wall, crowded backwards as the looming man’s knife glints in the light of the moon, the soft padding of grass underneath Alex not helping his stress. 

Alex’s eyes flicker like a frightened animal’s over Michael’s form, lips parting and painted crimson from his own blood as he hears the heavy breathing. Watching the coveralls on his shoulders lift and fall increasingly, his own eyes flickering down Michael’s for a fleeting moment. But, he catches it. The swell in the front of his coveralls at the hip area. Alex’s thoughts are flickering, the heat between them is too hot. He feels something bubble in his throat, a taunt, a laugh, something. 

What breaks the silence is Michael. Unzipping his coveralls and letting the arms fall off his shoulders. Revealing a skin tight white t-shirt that could be mistaken for his actual skin with its color. A peek of his midriff shows a thin trail of dark curls and Alex’s mouth waters- or perhaps it’s the blood, he isn’t sure now. 

Painfully his red hair is grasped, fingers curled into it and knife clattering to the ground. Alex snarls, trying to wrench his head away as his face is buried into the convenient slot between Michael’s thighs. He’s smothered there, the hand in his hair holding steady and forcing Alex to inhale his scent. Musky and of sweat. He almost bites him, but the hand in his hair could easily decide to wrench him back, break his neck- Michael could do so much worse than kill him. 

He gets the picture. Nuzzling partially against him to appease the beast in front of him. It isn’t long before he’s pulled back, the coveralls pushed lower and revealing a thick, pale cock. His mouth drools yet again, feeling his fingers twitch to grab onto him and do something, but his stomach does a flip when he’s yanked closer. Alex doesn’t get much time to do or say anything besides open his mouth at the insistent pressing on his lip and sucking as directed. 

He gets maybe a minute total to find his own pace. Hands grabbing at Michael’s hips only for them to be shoved off with a grunt so he keeps them on the grass beneath him instead. Fingers curling into the roots when a hand shoves him forward, deeper, causing a choked noise to exit his throat. He tries to pull back for air but is just shoved onto the man’s cock further until he’s wrenching and trying so hard to cough on reflex. 

Apparently it feels good, according to how Michael shakes whenever his throat constricts around a cough or a gag. Drool pours in Alex’s mouth, spilling down his chin as he’s yanked off Michael’s cock so the killer can drag a hand over his own length. Pumping until Alex seems to obey the idea he’s going for, sitting there and shaking with blood dripping down his chin as well as drool. Soon followed by white splatters landing on his tongue, nose, cheek, and chin. One spot hits his busted lip, making him flinch at the sting of it before he licks it off. 

That should...should be it, right? Alex had heard two generators go off through the entire endeavor, a good enough distraction he decides. He goes to stand, expecting to at least be allowed to scurry away. 

He...wasn’t so lucky. 

He’s kicked, thrown onto hands and knees and pants yanked down in a fluid motion to expose his ass. He doesn’t say no, doesn’t say stop, instead he lifts up his hips to show off a little more. Wiggling his hips back and forth and peering over his shoulder to see the knife wielding man clenching and unclenching his fists. “What? Mouth not good enough for ya’?” 

THAT gets Michael’s attention. Blue eyes flashing dangerously as he yanks Alex’s hips up. There’s no prep besides spit covered fingers that Michael uses after shoving them in Alex’s mouth. Scissoring, rough fingers inside of him make him his and claw at the ground for support. Panting and moaning openly before his eyes drift to a locker peeked open juuuust enough for Alex to see a glint of eyes in there. 

He’s almost shocked enough to stop, rip himself away. But he narrows his eyes instead, deciding if the other survivor was going to watch, might as well attempt to look better. He arches his back, face pressed into his crossed arms to use as a brace. The show of submission is enough to get Michael replacing fingers with his dick instead, shoving right in without a warning. Why would he give a warning, Alex thinks as he hisses and grits his teeth at the ache of the familiar stretch. Bowing his head as his cock gives a very interested twitch to the thickness inside of him. 

 

This wasn’t for his pleasure, was it? It was for Michael’s. A silent exchange. Survivors’ lives for his pain. 

But oh it starts to feel good. The insistent pumping of hips slapping against his ass. Alex keens and mewls beneath the pressure of nails digging into his hips. He can feel cum dripping out of his ass, he knew the big guy already came twice within a small period of time from each one. Each time Michael pulls out, a small white glob trails down the backs of Alex’s thighs, sticking to the grass or his pants, wherever it reaches first. His own cock bounces, neglected and hard. The pressure inside of him enough to have him gasping. 

Alex keens after a moment, a sob ripped from his throat as his hair is yanked, forcing him against the man’s chest instead of on all fours. He reaches behind him to sink his fingers into Michael’s sides as one of Michael’s arms secures around his waist, pressing to his belly as the other keeps in his hair for just a moment. Before sliding down to his throat to hold him firmly there. 

Alex snaps at the strangled growl in his ear, cumming as his cock jerks and shoots forward weakly. Overstimulated as another load of cum is pressed into him. Pumping firmly into his ass with a few more thrusts until Michael is finished. 

They both pant, Alex more loudly so. Eyes fuzzy with tears as his tongue flicks across his lips to taste the blood dried on them. He just about sobs as Michael releases him back onto the ground with an undignified plop, leaving him face down, ass up as he pulls out with a lewd squelch. Alex shudders, pulling up his clothing but firmly feeling the sensations deep inside of him. Just at the same time he stands on shaky legs, the last generator makes a resounding ‘pop’ noise. The noise of a door ready to be opened nearby. 

Michael is busy putting on his coveralls, but judging by how he goes for his knife, there’s no way he plans on just LETTING them go. 

So Alex does what he does best. 

Runs. 

Runs with a promise of haunting breath on the back of his neck, a harsh voice echoing in his head to remind him that the Entity was not done with him distracting its most formidable killers.


End file.
